Ten Things Good About Today

1.  Piano Festival.  Taylei and Keanna performed their pieces today.  The best thing about this?  Superior Ratings.  The second best thing?  The four songs they have played, played, played, memorized and played some more can be forgotten.  (Maybe not forgotten, I truly hope they will play them on occasion but anything more than this may be considered illegal).

On a side note, I believe both daughters may quit playing if the consequences weren't so great.
They are allowed, by me, to quit at anytime, but if they do quit, they also quit all other activities they are involved in.  This list includes: dance, basketball, soccer, volleyball, leather craft, tennis, ipods, nooks and even the mighty, most important, not to be messed with softball.

I heard hints that others may consider be to be a 'mean' mom last night.  Keanna loves spending time with her second-cousin Bailey.  Bailey and Keanna get along beautifully.  Bailey brings out Keanna's personality in its purest form.  I learned that Bailey likes to limit the time Sulena and I visit.  She is afraid her mom may impose some of my same rules.  Examples: bedroom doors are to be shut NEVER or if you don't practice the piano the required amount, I am repaid for the lesson.  Maybe my daughter's journals compare me to Cruella deVil or the Wicked Step-Mother, maybe even both?

2.  Survival in Judging.  I was asked to fill in and be a judge at the previous mentioned festival.  Really?  It is a good thing they didn't ask for a resume, my qualifications would have been seriously lacking.  At one point, I was reading the music and comparing it to the notes the student was playing and felt like I was in way over my head.  Had I missed a sign that called for the music to be played an octave lower?  I was reassured when one of the other judges asked the student to play again with hands in the proper location.  I was nervous but the poor students were terrified.

When it was over, I realized I had enjoyed the experience.  Piano is a talent you have forever.  Until I hear someone tell me the hours their mom forced them to practice in their youth were a waste of time, my girls are going to play.

Next question, when should I have Kyler start?  A man is never sexier than when he is tickling the ivories, commanding them to send forth a melody that moves your very soul.

3.  Keanna and her passion for the keyboard.  Keanna seems to be at a desperate state in her development trying to decide what HER interests are.  Piano?  Nope, her mothers desire.  Softball?  Nope, something her father, grandfathers (yes, both) and even grandmothers want her to participate in.  Dancing?  Enjoys tremendously but.  Duct Tape?  Fad.  Sewing?  Fad.  Ice Skating?  For almost a week this is the only thing she talked about but once again, the desire seems to have past.

This week she began her adventure in her newest passion.  The fourth grade has began a unit where they are learning to type.  Home row keys and all.  Every spare minute she is sitting at the keyboard.  Today we found some typing games.  Now she can increase her skills while saving the space ship from alien invaders one word at a time.

4.  A patient husband.  Tennis lessons 101 commenced at the tennis courts today.  Andy helped Taylei and Keanna.  I arrived and he devoted his attention to me.  How I hold my racket, how I should spin the head, how I need to hit and get back to ready position and how I hit more home runs in 10 minutes than in my entire softball career (too bad that only took one).  We volleyed a little but he only had to get into his ready stance for me to have a chill of terror run down my spine.

We have been married 14 years and in that time I can count on both hands the amount of tennis games he has gotten to play.  This was his sport.  He played doubles and they were slated to win state.  He choked.

We keep saying we are going to start playing, then, he takes our family to the court and although he never shows his frustration, exasperation and desperation I know we drive him crazy.  Too bad I don't find a private coach and gain enough skills to volley against him, then invite him on a surprise date to the tennis court, complete with a candlelight dinner, cute tennis skirt and a tennis game he could actually enjoy.

5. Beds that are unmade.  Why?  This bed, in its state of chaos, represents something good.  Unmade beds usually don't make me smile but today I was lucky enough to be reminded of my bounteous blessings.  I have a daughter (daughters and sons for that matter) who are healthy, active and my joy in this world.  I realized there are parents of children who have passed to the other side of the veil who will never get to make a child's bed again.  I will pull up the covers and be grateful the bed was slept in the night before.

6.  A girl who loves the game as much as her dad.  Taylei was invited to a friend's home for games and was in the process of getting ready when Andy informed her she needed to pitch before she could go.  Outside she went to make her dad happy, wet just-got-out-of-the-shower hair and all.  (Some of her pitching pictures make her arm look quite deformed.  I really should turn them into a collage for her posterity's enjoyment).  Since Tom and Jerian moved to California, Andy has stepped in as pitching coach until a replacement is found.  I only ventured out and watched for a minute and it was obvious this is a problem in desperate need of a quick action.

7.  The power of the sun.  I love the shape of Andy's legs but after seeing them today, basked in the glory of winter white, I can't wait for the power of the sun to transform them into a glorious bronze.

8.  The trampoline.  Our yard no longer has a 5 feet deep by 14 feet wide hole.  Andy must have given up on winter and has returned the mat to its proper location.

9.  My right hand man.  Grandma Lou bought shovels for my boys.  A shovel of their very own.  Kyler wanted to make sure his would not be mistaken for his brothers and in his finest Kindergarten handwriting, he labeled each one.  He has been begging to dig weeds since the shovel was placed in his possession.  I keep telling him it still isn't time.  Today we found pits under the plum tree.  He gathered them as quickly as possible and ran after his shovel, determined to plant them deep in the earth.  I had to deny his location choices, right in the middle of my flower beds or the lawn wasn't quite what I had in mind.  We finally agreed on a place or two and he commenced Operation Plant A Tree.

10.  Spring is here.  I believe Heavenly Father is the God of this earth.  This earth was created under his direction and power.  Miracles occur each and every day.  One of which, tulips.  Tulips.  The bulbs sit in the earth through the summer, fall and winter and each spring, the plant pushes its way up through the rocks and frozen earth.  Each spring we witness the love Heavenly Father has for us.  The cold, dark days of winter are replaced with the vibrant colors and glorious new birth spring offers.

I love spring.  I love knowing I'm loved on this earth and in heaven.  My blessings are bounteous, especially if I take a break from my own agenda to look around and see what Heavenly Father has done for me.

Me, My Valentine & My Hate the Month of January disorder

I was once again successful and sent valentines to friends and family. (This statement seems like boasting but it truly is just rejoicing that good triumphed evil).  In some ways this was the easiest year ever, while in other ways it was the hardest.

Explanation please . . .

My mastery of photoshop has been improving.  I have taken classes online which have been incredible.  Trial and error has helped as well.  Then, when all else fails, I've used my greatest source of information, the employees of  Kimo's Kamera.

Kimo's recently upgraded some printing equipment making the possibilities almost endless.

When I would visit this store I would leave with idea after idea running through my head.  Then, I would arrive home and not want anything to do with it.

I hate January.  I hate the fact that it is dark.  I hate the terrible weather.  I hate that I've just finished a 'get ready for Christmas frenzy' to having nothing on my plate.  I hate, I hate, I hate and hate is such a terrible word.

If I could cuddle up in bed, add ten extra blankets (for the warmth and the weight), and not get up until the second week of February, I would.  The bear species has it all figured out, hibernation really is the answer.

I was interested in making a folding card, an accordion card, or maybe even a shutter card.  Then after staring at my blank file, nothing but whiteness glaring back at me, I would find a more enjoyable activity to pursue, laundry never looked so good.

As I ran out of time I went for simple, deciding that if I had the valentine printed on metallic paper the recipients of the card would be less critical of the fact that my card wasn't fantastically amazing.  Boy, do I worry way to much about what others may 'think' of me.

While reading an article in the Ensign last month, "Look Up," by Elder Carl B. Cook I new I had found the topic for my next relief society lesson.  And no one needs the message more than me.

What is my deal?  Not sending a card was not an option (is that a double negative?).  Failure would not help my frantically-trying-to-recover-from-the-terrors-of-January self.  I had to do this, to prove I have a little more value than the January demons in my head had been preaching.

Finally, the blank file began to have color, pictures and text.  With a tremendous amount of tweaking, resizing, and turning layers on and off, the card was finished!

While getting the card printed, Jimmy, who works at Kimo's, made me aware of the fact that I could use a mail merge and have my envelopes printed as well, complete with recipient addresses.

Do you know how easy this was?  Do you know how much time this saved, not just for this year but for future years as well?  The envelope ended up looking amazing.  It didn't have a bulk-mail look, instead it looked quite professional.  This process took about 1/10th the time of hand addressing.

I mailed the cards on a Thursday, and on Saturday, Andy's tennis coach had left a message thanking us for the card.  His message touched my soul and I new I had done a little good in the world.  This man is one of my husband's heroes someone who has made deep impression on him.  So much so, that one of Andy's dreams is to inherit enough money to retire from Novell and be a high school tennis coach.

I realize the tradition of sending cards is becoming ancient history.  But, it is something good.  It uplifts the souls of those who are on the receiving end.  Something I hope to continue for years to come.

P.S.  When Andy was finally able to talk to his coach this is the question he got asked, "What do I have to do to get the rest of the picture?" referring to the shot where you can only see all of Aysen.

Event occurred February 13, 2012

My Boyfriend

For Valentine's Day I stayed up half the night attaching hearts with sweet poems to little gifts for my family.  I had planned ahead for once and even purchased a card for my husband.  (I hate paying for cards BUT sometimes they express perfectly the thoughts of my heart.  Thoughts I can't put into words).

I left the valentines in various places my family could find throughout their day -- nothing like a little surprise to boost your happiness.  I cut a deluge of extra hearts to use the next morning for the other valentines I wanted to give.  Andy woke up and in a matter of minutes had used my hearts and hid love notes for me all around our home.   No complaints -- if this is all it takes to get love note, I'ld cut hearts until my fingers were covered in blisters.

Later in the day, flowers arrived.  A dozen red roses to be exact.  The card was simple, "Happy Valentine's Day, Lyn."

Things that make you go hummmmmmmm.   A million thoughts ran through my mind, like, "Were the flowers delivered to the wrong location?" Or, "Did Lynn Bateman send Gail flowers and the cards were accidentally switched?"  Andy was home from work but on the phone.  When he was finished I let him know my conclusion, "I have a boyfriend."

He questioned, "Who?"

My simple response, "Lyn."

"Lyn who" was his reply.

With a hint of the unknown, I answered, "Just Lyn."

I proceeded to show him the flowers and the card.  The mystery was then solved.  He had asked them to write on the card, "Capital LYM."

M not N.  Funny.  It is amazing the difference a missing vertical line creates.

(Stealing a picture from Lisa, since no copyrights were found I believe I'm safe from going to jail).
Due to the fact that we DIDN'T follow the vanishing tradition of doorbell ditching valentine's this year,
Kaci wasn't the only Woodland with a valentine.

Event Occurred February 14, 2012

The Tradition Continues

This is my dear husband, Andy.  This is him on the bunny slopes of Brian Head.  His feet are strapped to his snowboard.  He happens to be quite good at this sport, not Olympic material, but can handle his own and makes it look easy.

Andy may, or may have not, fallen in love with me on this very slope.  In December, 1997 he planned to take his brothers on a night skiing trip to Brian Head.  He invited me along so they could have somewhere to spend the night -- Extremely long story and my story differs significantly from Andy's but I've written my version down and so in 50 years mine will be fact and his will be lost into the great abyss of the unknown.

Then a few weeks later, my family was headed to Brian Head to stay in Dave Wilkey's condo for the New Year's weekend.  At this time, Andy and I were interested in dating and I invited him to join us.  We had the shortest distance to drive and arrived first.  He was sick with the flu, broke the glass on the fireplace while trying to start a fire and almost killed my sister, Mary Dawn, when he took her down her first black diamond.  True love.

Fourteen years later the Brian Head tradition continues.  We try and make it to the condo and on the slopes yearly.  Andy has given up boarding (black diamonds anyways) and devoted his attention to helping our children.  Taylei began as a skier (the biggest crush of her life so far has been her ski instructor), but now has her own snowboard and does really well.  Keanna gave up her skis during this trip to become a snowboarder too.  Kyler liked skiing and started to have success but hanging out in the condo was equally alluring.  Aysen only got to play in the snow, Andy can only handle helping so many children at a time.

I made it out onto the slopes during the afternoons.  Skiing is something I enjoy but I hate the cold which complicates things tremendously.

Taylei was lucky enough to share a bed with Aysen.  To say she had a miserable night would be an understatement.  She made sure they didn't share the same bed again.  Notice how he has pushed her off the pillow?  And how she has been forced down to the bottom of the bed?  And his fingers are wrapped up in her hair.  Evidence to the world as to why I sleep so much better when he doesn't sleep with me.

Special thanks to my mom and dad for making this trip possible, they are wonderful parents.  I couldn't have been blessed with better.  They still spend some time on the slopes with their skis on.  They set an amazing example for my children.  Thanks also to Dave Wilkey for still having an interest in the condo that he hasn't visited in over five years.

Event occurred January 26 - 29, 2012

Obesity and Me

Here is one of those bare my soul posts . . .

Obesity is my new plan.  Yesterday I was hungered the whole entire day.  Hungered to the point I ate anything in site.  Stale Burnt Blacks, check.  Rancid sunflower seeds, check.  Gumballs, check.  The roast beef off of my dad's plate even though my dinner was in the oven, check.  I dug deep and found candy in my mother's pantry, I left the Twizzlers but ate the Dove chocolates I had given her for Valentine's.  My person truly had no limits.

Today I took a minute to browse my sister, Diane's blog.  In a most horrible act of reality, she put a picture of me in my swimsuit taken at 7-Peaks last summer.  A picture where my hips are double in proportion to what they should be.  Double!!!  Then my lower legs, in all their glory were blossoming like a rose in full bloom.

I am the tallest of my sisters.  I am largest of my sisters.  I am the least educated of my sisters.  I am in the worst physical condition of my sisters.  (Told you I am well aware of my weaknesses).

This morning, in true Aysen fashion, he found his own breakfast.  When he needs something from the kitchen he pushes a bar stool to the cupboard (he pays close attention when the cupboard doors are open and he knows where to fine everything).  He climbs the stool, gets on to the counter and can then access whatever he is looking for.  Today it was a mint chocolate orange leftover from Christmas (Amazing that it has lasted so long).  Andy told me Aysen was hungry, he must have witnessed the scene when he walked by on his way to work.  By the time I made it into the kitchen, the orange was out of its packaging and the gold wrapper was being peeled back.

I tried in vain to convince him he should eat breakfast first but when he resisted I decided it was a battle I wasn't willing to wage.  It was an orange, right?

Then once again, I indulged myself.  I needed my dose of 'fruit' for the day.

When Aysen and I made it home from playgroup I made cookies.  They weren't out of the oven for more than 35 seconds when I tried one.  Currently I've eaten four.

For lunch I made cheese crisps.  Delicious.  Cheese melted onto a fresh cooked tortilla.  I had two.  Afterwards I felt terrible.  My stomach is trying to tell my brain it should find some different dishes a little more nutritious.  It just doesn't seem to shout loud enough, never overpowering the triggers that convince me to eat all the wrong things.

Too bad I've wasted the calories I saved when at the first of this year I went 35 days without a sweet.  35 long days.  35 days when I thought of giving in hundreds if not thousands of times.  35 days proving to myself I can do hard things.  35 days when my carloric and sugar intake was in check.

I have a goal every day around noon to change.  To wake up at six and spend some time on my bike or walking my stairs or playing wii fit or doing the same amount of sit-ups and push-ups Taylei and Keanna are required to do during softball training.  You know, be an example of good health to my children.  Another one of those goals I'm falling significantly short in.

End Confession.

Hopefully getting my soul out on the line will help me to change.  To become who I am capable of becoming.  To be the better me.  Marie?  This works right?

If not, I'll succeed at the obesity goal.  Fat and happy?  Or fat and totally miserable in another facet of life I'm falling desperately short in.  I need to remember the saying I have repeated over and over again this last month, "We are NOT judged on our waist size" which I truly believe.  But, on the other hand, how I look in a swimsuit is just skimming the surface of the real issue.

P.S. You may get to see the real me in my writing but the picture inspiring this post will not defile my blog.  Imagination will have to do but, please be kind.

Me, the Woobie

When Aysen was born, we spent a lot of time together in my bed.  It began with "kangaroo care" and developed into a lot of snuggling while I spent time on my laptop (enough time with my power cord at a bad angle that it frayed and ruined).

My hair was always in Aysen's face, long enough to make his life uncomfortable.  I trimmed four inches off to try and help him out but it seemed to always find a way to dangle in his face.

He took revenge on my hair.  He decided if it was going to be in his way he would grab hold.  This developed into a fixation and then addiction.  Most of the time I do not mind but as of late the holding has turned into pulling.  Ouch.

When he is tired he needs my hair in the similar way other children need binkies.  I have maintained my 'favorite' status at these moments, otherwise Andy followed closely by Taylei are in the running.  Taylei had a fascination with the lace on my garments, Keanna had a similar hair fixation but back then my hair was ten inches shorter so she played with the hair on the back of my neck.  As for Kyler, I do not remember him having a funny quirk.

Aysen usually grabs my hair with one hand and brushes his other hand with the ends.  This is done in a gentle manner.  It is during the night when he can't get comfortable and grabs hold at the most ridiculous angles that I want to break him of his habit.  Sometimes I wish he was addicted to a blanket, something I could give to him and remove myself from the room.  But then there's the downside, what if the blanket gets lost?  My hair is always on my head (glad it is not one of the many things I have lost over the years). But to break him of the habit I may have to shave my head bald.  And, as much as I threaten to take this action I'm NOT willing to give up the locks that I've waited 30 years to grow.

First things first

Tonight we watched Keanna play her last city league basketball game of the season.  Yes!!!  Now, don't get me wrong, I love that she plays but I love when its over.  One less thing on the schedule for the week.  Or, one thing finished, moving on to the next.

Andy sent out a text today scheduling two Steeler practices.  Last week there were two practices . . .  The break has been so nice but with our amazing spring weather the break is OVER.

On to subject number two . . .

Yesterday for dinner I made mashed potatoes.  Second week in a row if you must know, awarding myself hero status in the eyes of my children.  Last week the pan was scraped clean almost to the licked status.  (I went the extra mile and whipped the potatoes with beaters after the mashing.  Granny would be proud.)

This week we had leftovers.  Partly because I made an abundant amount and partly because Taylei was threatening the well-being of anyone desiring seconds.

Funny.  Why would leftover mashed potatoes be so important?

The favorite food in our home is Tater Cakes.  Though none of us would respond this way if asked, they are such a delicacy we forget they exist.

The recipe in a nutshell:

Place approximately three cups of your leftover, cold, mashed potatoes onto a floured surface.  Add flour.  Lots of flour.  Also, add a teaspoon of baking powder and a teaspoon of baking soda.  Knead in as much flour as possible to create a softball sized ball.  Repeat until potatoes are gone.  Place dough balls in the fridge, uncovered, overnight.  The next day roll out the ball to 3/8" thickness and bake in the oven on a greased pan at 375 degrees for 20 minutes.  Reduce heat to 350 degrees after flipping the cake and bake for 10 more minutes.  Slice cake in half, add butter and serve with peach freezer jam.

This is my first time making Tater Cakes.  I have assisted my mom in the process before but I've never been so bold to try it on my own.  My Grandma Ewell served this dish and when she passed away to the disappointment of all, the recipe went with her.  My mom had never learned.  And because all mashed potatoes are not created equal a set recipe was never created.  Almost twenty years later my mom asked one of her aunts if they knew how to make them.  To the delight of my entire family, she was given enough information to give them a try.

Now, we are usually a pretty open family to sharing a meal with anyone who stops by or inviting others to join us at the dinner table.  The niceness and willingness to share stops when it comes to this food.  Tater Cakes are coveted.  I didn't realize how serious the obsession was until Andy made it known we were not telling anyone what we would be having for dinner this evening.

My Grandma Ewell made some different foods.  I loved all of them but the feeling has not been the same among those who have married into the family.  I have learned Milk Toast is only loved by those who grew up with it.  I'm ashamed to say my children stick their noses in the air if they are offered the food I requested every time I was sick.  Johnny Cake has grown on almost everyone.  Too bad we've never duplicated her homemade bread or my favorite dessert in her home -- peanut butter with homemade whipped honey stirred together to the perfect consistency created in your very own cup.  It really is the little things we miss about those who have passed on.

Tater Cakes rolled and ready to place in the oven.

My finished product pictures did not turn out.  I'll say it again, this was my first time.  They could have tasted better but could have been so much worse.  I used Butter Red potatoes and they kind of made whole wheat Tater Cakes, not really, but this is the easiest way to describe them.

We ate in a hurry so we could make it to watch "The Lorax" for our family night activity.  Because of this and the fillers (hash browns and fried eggs) I served with the meal, breakfast is ready in the morning.

The early bird gets the worm . . .